


He's a Tramp

by fiddleyoumust



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, Halloween, M/M, Toronto Maple Leafs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: A story about two competitive boys who want to carve pumpkins and also kiss each other.





	He's a Tramp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotts (LottieAnna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/gifts).



> HI Lotts,
> 
> This is not quite what you asked for but it's where the fic muse took me. I hope you like it anyway! Happy Halloween!

“What is that?” Auston asks, trying his hardest not to laugh. It feels automatic to want to give Mitch shit about pretty much everything, but Auston’s been trying to be better about it lately. Not really because has any sort of conscience about chirping his friends. It’s more that chirping feels different with Mitch -- like it’s coming from a different place -- and rather than think about why that is, Auston tries to be mindful of just how much shit he’s giving Mitch at any given time. 

Mitch is sat in the middle of his kitchen floor, various knives littered around him, and a pot full of pumpkin guts by his knee. He’s smiling at the single ugliest Jack-O-Lantern Auston has ever seen. 

“I carved a pumpkin,” Mitch says proudly, bouncing up from the floor to grab a barely used lemon meringue-scented candle off the countertop.

It’s all so ridiculous. The pumpkin. The candle. Mitch with his stupidly big smile and his terrible pumpkin carving skills. Auston’s suddenly so fond of him that he does laugh and says affectionately, “It looks like a drunk four-year-old carved it, Mitchy.”

“Fuck off, man. That’s a masterpiece,” Mitch says, placing the candle inside and bounding over to the kitchen light to flick it off. 

Candle light and shadows bounce around the kitchen. The ugly pumpkin’s crooked smile glows creepily. Auston thinks it’s sort of romantic which is weird and also a little panic inducing because. What. The. Fuck?

Auston laughs again, but this time it sounds sort of desperate to his own ears.

Mitch must not notice because he shoves Auston lightly and says, “Shut up. Like, you could do any better.”

The thing is, Auston can do better. His family loves Halloween. Pumpkin carving has been a sort of competitive sport between him and his sisters for as long as Auston can remember. 

He must be silent for too long because Mitch says, “Oh okay, Matts. Bring it on then.”

Making ridiculous bets, especially ones he knows he can win, feels like much sounder footing than thinking about why he likes teasing Mitch so much.

“A bet?” Auston asks.

“Name your terms,” Mitch says.

~~~~

Freddie’s never the most expressive guy, so Auston can’t really tell what he’s thinking when Auston tells him about the bet.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, because the best approach with Freddie is just straight ahead. 

Fred blinks and says, “What do I think about you and Mitch making a bet to go on a date?”

Auston splutters because that’s… “It’s not a bet to _go on a date_ ,” Auston insists. “The loser is just buying the winner dinner.”

“Hm,” Freddie says which is not helpful at all.

“So will you like, be our judge or whatever?” Auston asks frustrated.

“Sure,” Freddie says easily. “What are the terms exactly?”

“That’s pretty much it. We carve some pumpkins. You pick which one is better and the loser has to buy the winner dinner.”

Fred nods and gets up from where he’s been sprawled out on his sofa. Auston takes the opportunity to grab some more sofa real estate for himself, smiling innocently when Freddie gives him a wry look. 

“You want a beer?” Freddie asks, making his way into his kitchen.

“Sure,” Auston calls, sinking back into Freddie’s very comfortable sofa cushions while Freddie clanks around in his refrigerator. 

Freddie comes back with their beers and Auston takes a long swig while Freddie settles into the smaller space Auston’s left for him.

“You know,” Freddie says, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “If you wanted to actually aks Mitch on a date no one on the team would give you grief about it.”

Auston’s stomach squirms uncomfortably. He doesn’t care about the team knowing he likes dudes, but he hates feeling exposed. He hates people thinking they have some deep insight into who he is just because they know some random personal thing about him. That’s probably why he snaps, “I know,” at Fred a little more irritated than he intends.

Freddie doesn’t look ruffled. Auston’s heard stories about how he used to flip his shit back in the day when he played in Denmark, but Auston’s never seen him really lose it. He can’t even fathom what that might look like.  
“You any good at carving pumpkins?” Freddie asks.

“I’m <>i>excellent. I’ve got skills in all sorts of activities on and off the ice,” Auston says smugly with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Freddie rewards him with an eyeroll and Auston feels relieved that maybe they’re done talking about the whole dating Mitch thing. Except then Freddie says, “You know you could maybe not be good at pumpkin carving this one time.”

“What do you mean?” Auston asks because the idea of not winning something you can win is stupid and Auston can’t fathom why anyone would do it.

Freddie just blinks at him patiently. Of all the people on the team, besides Mitch of course, Auston is closest with Freddie. Maybe closer in some ways since he’s clearly got some stuff to work out about Mitch. It’s nice in a way, to have someone that understands him, sees through some of his bullshit and bluster, and likes him for who he is on the inside. But also there’s that whole feeling exposed thing that gets his hackles up.

“I know you’re trying to help but stop,” Auston says. He can’t look at Freddie anymore, so he makes busy work of peeling the label off his beer bottled. 

Freddie puts a hand on his upper arm and squeezes once lightly. “I was just thinking that if I was a little nervous about asking someone out it would be cool to have a way to do it without doing it, you know?” 

Auston blinks a couple of times. Not only is Freddie a good friend, but Auston has to admit it’s also nice to have someone else who is kind of cunning? Conniving? Someone who can look at a situation and see some gray area that might be worth exploring. 

It’s probably time to admit to himself at least, that the butterflies he gets whenever he thinks about Mitch’s mouth or his hands or his stupidly slender wrists isn’t just buddies being buddies. He does want to ask Mitch out. Like, he probably wants to date him and then maybe marry him and adopt some kids and grow old together with their matching cup rings sitting in a display case on a shelf. If he has to exploit a bet to do it… well. It’s certainly not the worst thing that’s ever been done for love. 

“You know,” Auston says, smiling a little. “You make an excellent point.”

~~~

Turns out trying to carve an uglier pumpkin than Mitch is actually more difficult than carving a good pumpkin.

“Mitch wins,” Freddie says.

Even Mitch’s pumpkin stares back at them incredulously.

Naz walks by, glances at the two pumpkins, and asks Freddie, “Aren’t you supposed to be an impartial judge?”

Fred’s brow wrinkles and he says, “No one told me I had to be impartial.”

Auston forgets himself for a moment because he’s a competitive shit and his pumpkin is _clearly_ better, even if it is still very bad. There’s no way Mitch has won this thing on merit. “I thought we were friends!” Auston wails. 

“I am your friend,” Freddie says pointedly, looking between Mitch and Auston as he ruffles Mitch’s hair. “I just like Mitch better.”

Mitch preens and Auston rolls his eyes because that’s a damn lie and also he remembers that, oh yeah, Freddie is the best. Good looking out. 

“So where do you want to go for dinner?” Auston asks Mitch. 

He’s not about to squander this opportunity even if he does feel a little bit bad for letting Mitch think he actually has any kind of pumpkin carving skills. It’s like the people on singing shows whose mothers told them they had voices like angels when really they sound like a cat wailing in the rain. 

Mitch smiles and says, “Surprise me.”

~~~

Auston opts for cooking. A terrible idea considering he cannot cook, but he’d felt nervous about the possibility of Mitch figuring out their dinner was more than a bet to Auston while sitting in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

Thankfully his mom comes through with a chicken casserole recipe he liked when he was a kid that she swears he can’t screw up. It smells delicious which makes sense since it’s full of cheese and condensed soup that is definitely not on either of their approved meal plans. If it tastes half as good as it smells Auston can call it a win. 

Mitch shows up right on time smelling like the Tom Ford cologne Auston got him for his birthday. He’s got on a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue button up shirt that brings out his eyes. His mouth looks very pink and stupidly big.

Everything about him is stressing Auston out, so he says, “Hey. Welcome. Do you want a beer?” and then walks toward the kitchen without waiting for a response.

“Hey,” Mitch says back and he sounds close so Auston assumes he’s trailing him. “Smells good in here.”

Auston wants to say, “So do you,” but he doesn’t want to have to wish for the floor to open up and swallow him whole so he says, “Thanks,” like a very normal person instead.

He gets Mitch a beer and puts one of those steamable bags of green beans in the microwave while Mitch tells him about some watch company he’s going to start shilling for on Instagram. It’s nice zoning out while Mitch chatters away. Auston knows Mitch annoys about half the team with his need to be making noise at all times, but Auston finds it soothing.

The chicken comes out of the oven bubbling. The rice underneath it looks properly cooked too, so barring any kind of weird uncooked chicken incidence when they cut open the breasts, Auston thinks he did okay.

“Dude, I had no idea you could cook,” Mitch says while they dish up their plates together.

“Jury is still out,” Auston remarks. “This is the first thing I’ve tried that’s more complicated than a frozen pizza.”

They sit at the table. It’s maybe the second time Auston’s ever used it, but he’s trying to create a mood here. He watches Mitch eat his first bite and lets out a relieved sigh when Mitch makes an appreciative noise.

“It’s so good, dude,” Mitch says. “I’m feeling very wooed right now. Can’t believe you didn’t light some candles for me too.”

Auston knows he’s just kidding, but he feels his face flame up anyway. He’s afraid Mitch will notice so he gets up and lights the jack-o-lantern he’s got sitting on the sideboard next to the table. His mom called it a sideboard whatever the hell that is. 

“Better?” he asks, settling back in his chair. 

“Very romantic,” Mitch says. 

The thing is, the jack-o-lantern is kind of romantic. Auston’s sister had suggested the design and Auston felt like showing off a little after dumbing down his last carving attempt for Mitch. He looks over his shoulder at the silhouette of Lady and the Tramp glowing out at them.

“I guess,” Auston says. He’s trying to play it cool but he thinks Mitch might be flirting a little bit and he is decidedly not cool about it on the inside.

“Too bad you didn’t make us pasta. We could have recreated it,” Mitch says, a teasing smirk on his face.

Auston knows he should laugh, but he can’t make himself do it. The smirk falls from Mitch’s face and they stare at each other from across the table.

“Mitch I…” Auston starts.

“Did you carve that pumpkin?” Mitch asks softly.

Auston should probably lie, but the way Mitch is looking at him makes him want to tell the truth. The whole stupid truth about letting Mitch win the contest and also about how he maybe has a pretty big crush on Mitch. 

“Yeah,” Auston says.

“So the one you carved for the contest?”

“Not my best work,” Auston says with a shrug of his shoulders.

Mitch gets up and comes around the table to stand over Auston. “So it would be fair to say you lost on purpose?” he asks.

“Still should have won,” Auston says, tilting his head back to look up at Mitch. “Freddie totally let you win.”

It feels strange looking up at Mitch when it’s usually the other way around. But it doesn’t feel strange at all when Mitch leans over and kisses Auston. Mitch’s mouth is wide and warm and better than any of the hundreds of kisses Auston’s imagined over the last few weeks.

Auston surges up from his chair and moves them backward until they stumble into the sideboard where he can pin Mitch and change the angle of the kiss. Mitch moans and clings to Auston’s shoulders and the kissing is _so good_ that Auston’s mind starts wandering to what else might be good between them.

They break apart and Mitch pants hotly against Auston’s neck.

“ _You_ let me win, you cheat,” Mitch pants hotly against Auston’s neck.

Auston touches Mitch’s cheek, tilting his face up so Auston can see him. He wants to argue that he’s definitely the one who won here, but Mitch is smiling at him and his mouth looks like it needs to be kissed. 

“I absolutely did,” Auston says and leans in to kiss him again.


End file.
